


Made for It

by madame_faust



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 11:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_faust/pseuds/madame_faust
Summary: How did Grace go from Number Seven's nanny to a mother for all the children? A possible explanation (mostly from Number Two's perspective, but all the kids are in on it).





	Made for It

**Author's Note:**

> I might follow this up with the kids finally getting names, or just let it rest here, haven't decided.

Number Seven sure had a lot of new nannies. The other children probably didn't pay much attention, but he did. He paid attention to everything. Enough attention to notice them coming, but never going, and not usually staying much past breakfast. Except one. The new one. With yellow hair and a red mouth. During lessons, he heard Number Seven call her Grace.

Number Two decided he liked Grace much more than his own nanny, Rose. During lessons, where they were supposed to be learning their letters and numbers, she would lay his schoolwork out neatly, then retreat into a dark corner to observe him doing it and report to Dad if he seemed inattentive. He traced his letters, ( **B** - **E** - **M** - **N** - **R** - **U** were his favorites), his numbers, ( **2** was his MOST favorite), and shapes (triangles were the most fun because they were pointy, like trees, and pencils, and sharp sticks). Then he stood by the desk as Rose looked everything over and crossed out his mistakes with an angry red pen. While he waited, he watched Grace.

She sat down next to Number Seven as she traced her letters and numbers. She brought her pencils of all different colors to learn her shapes. And rather than cross-outs in angry red pen, she said things like, 'No, sweetie, that is meant to be a B and not a D. I know they look similar, but they are not. Let's try again."

And when Number Seven did her schoolwork perfectly, no mistakes, Grace would smile at her and say, "Good job! I knew you could do it. All your hard work paid off."

When Number Two did not make any mistakes on his schoolwork (which was admittedly rare), he didn't get praise. He only got not-punished, which was not the same thing. 

Number Two noticed the other children noticing Grace, edging slightly closer to her, away from their own nannies. The other nannies did not seem to mind. They stayed away from Grace; Number Two had the impression that they did not like her very much, but he did not understand why. Grace was the most wonderful person he'd ever seen.

It was Number Three they had to thank for being the one to talk to her first. It was in the classroom and Grace was looking over Number Seven's work.

"Only one mistake - you see here? You were meant to write the letter 'E' and instead you wrote a number '3' - do you see how they're different?"

Before Number Seven could respond about whether she saw the difference or not, Number Three looked over at them and piped up, "Maybe Number Seven is writing a story about me!"

The other children's heads snapped up; no talking during lessons, unless you were asked a question. That was one of Dad's rules. 

Number Seven's nanny, Violet, spoke in a trembling voice. "Now. Number Three. You know the rules. Eyes on your paper. No talking."

Number Three looked up at Violet, mouth puckering into a pout. "But, Violet, I heard a rumor you don't care about my lessons."

Violet's eyes flashed pale and some of the tension in her shoulders drained out.

"I'm going to step out for a minute," she said, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a cigarette case. She lit the cigarette and left the room, leaving an icky smell behind that made Number Six hold his nose as she passed. The other nannies were frozen, looking at one another to Number Three to Grace, not sure what they should do.

Number One was the only one brave enough to say anything.

"Number Three," he said, grip on his pencil so tight that it splintered in his hand. His nanny muttered something about getting him another and left the room. "That's against the rules. You might get punished."

The mention of punishment made Number Three hunch her shoulders, expression torn between defiance and guilt. She looked up at Grace warily.

Grace was unphased by the whole thing. "A story about you! How lovely. Would you children like to hear a story?"

 _That_ suggestion went over extremely well. 

"Yes!" Number Four exclaimed, standing up and knocking his chair over in his enthusiasm. "Please, please, please!"

"I want a scary story!" Number Five insisted. He vanished from his desk and reappeared at Grace's side. 

"I don't," Number Four and Number Six said at the same time. Then they looked at each other and laughed; although Dad never said so, laughing probably wasn't allowed during lessons either.

"Um, Grace?" Nanny Rose spoke up hesitantly. "I don't think we should be getting the...the children all riled up. Mr. Hargreeves has rules. This is school time. They need to do schoolwork."

"What could have more educational benefit than a good book?" Grace asked her, smiling her big red smile, showing all her shiny white teeth. Nanny Rose swallowed and looked away, as if she didn't like Grace's smile. 

Number Two stood up experimentally, looking up to gauge Nanny Rose's reaction; she was looking at Grace, not at him. He walked over to the little shelf of storybooks in their school room and picked one up, one whose cover and pictures he liked to look at, but whose contents he could not read. It was a big book and would probably take a long time to read; he didn't mind. He liked to listen to Grace talk.

With the book under his arm, he walked up to her and held it up. Grace's smile was turned on him and he smiled back, nervously, not showing any teeth.

"This one?" she asked, picking it up. Grace's fingertips brushed Number Two's hand; they were cool and hard. Standing this close, he could smell her. She smelled like vanilla and warm plastic. It was a wonderful smell. " _Charlotte's Web_ by E.B. White. Published on the fifteenth of October, 1952. One-hundred and ninety-two pages. The best-selling children's book of all time. What an excellent choice, Number Two!"

Number Two gave a happy little wiggle and his chest felt warm; she said something nice to him! And he wasn't even sure if he'd done his lesson perfectly. 

The other nannies were leaving, retreating to the edge of the room. "We must tell Mr. Hargreeves," Number Six's nanny insisted. The others murmured their agreement. They left then, shutting the children in with Grace. 

Grace sat down on the floor with a quiet whir of gears and pieces locking into place.

"Come, children! Sit, sit."

Number Two sat down close to her on her left side, close enough that his bare knee brushed against the soft material of her skirt. Number Three sat down on her other side, Number Seven sat down across from her and Number Five filled in the gap between Number Two and Number Seven. Number Four and Number Six squeezed in between Number Seven and Number Three. Number One did not sit, but he stood behind Grace.

"I want to see the pictures," he explained. 

"That's alright," she smiled at him. Smiled at all of them. They all smiled back, big smiles, showing their teeth as she did.

" _Chapter One: Before Breakfast. 'Where's Papa going with that ax?' said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast._

_'Out to the hoghouse,' replied Mrs. Arable. 'Some pigs were born last night.'_

_'I don't see why he needs an ax,' continued Fern, who was only eight._

_'Well,' said her mother, 'one of the pigs is a runt. It's very small and weak, and it will never amount to anything. So your father has decided to do away with it.'_ "

"Oh," Number Five interrupted knowingly, pityingly. "Like Number Seven?" 

"Yes," Number Three nodded, eager to be told how right she was, how perceptive she was. "Just like Number Seven."

Number Two looked at Number Seven, whose head was hanging down so that her hair covered her face. Was that true? Was Dad going to go to her room with an ax someday?

"No," Grace shook her head. "Not like Number Seven. You see, the runt has a bright future ahead of him."

"How?" Number One asked, confusion all over his face. "If it's little and weak and will never amount to anything?"

"Just because he's little and weak, it doesn't mean he's unimportant," Grace replied. Number Seven lifted her head back up, hair falling away from her face. "Now, hush, children. Let's keep reading."

The nannies never came back that day. The children began seeing them less and less. Soon, Grace was all they had. Quite a jump, to go from one charge to seven. But she hardly seemed to mind. Hardly seemed to notice.

The children noticed. And they were ecstatic. Even Number Seven, who, if she did not get Grace all to herself, was happy to share her if it meant she never had to have another nanny again.

Grace was the best nanny any of them had ever had. The others were always afraid, either of Mr. Hargreeves or of the children themselves. Grace was the only one who never showed any fear. Who never got flustered. Whose voice never quavered, whose eyes never filled with tears, and who always had a smile for them and an infinite amount of energy and patience.

It wasn't long before the children started to stake their territory, and none more boldly than Number Three. During recreation time, after lessons, she walked up to Grace, took her hand and grinned from ear to ear as she said, loud enough for the whole room to hear, "I heard a rumor that _I'm_  your favorite."

Number Seven looked down at the polished toes of her Mary-Janes, tiny shoulders slumping in defeat. "Grace was _my_ nanny," she mumbled, too low for Number Three to hear.

"No fair, no fair, no _fair_!" Number Four howled, throwing himself on the floor in a temper tantrum he was _just_ this side of too old for. "No fair!"

Number Two's insides knotted up and he wished he could throw a tantrum like Number Four; he held his breath until his lips turned blue and his eyes rolled back in his head and everyone fussed over him. When Number Two held his breath, no one even noticed.

Number Five stood over Number Four, who was still screaming and writhing on the floor, crocodile tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "I don't care. I don't even like you," he informed Grace with a huff. 

"Number Three, make her still give me hugs!" Number Six insisted, tugging on Number Three's blazer.

She shook him off and looked at him contemplatively. "I will if you let me have your dessert from now until forever."

"Okay," Number Six agreed readily, which snapped Number Four out of his tantrum.

"Hey! No! Wait, you can't do that!" he protested, wiping the tears and snot off his face with his sleeve.

"Dad won't let you," Number One observed accurately. "It's not allowed to share food."

"He might take dessert away from everyone forever," Number Seven predicted. A hushed silence fell on the group; the prospect of no dessert forever was both a terrifying possibility and a very real consequence for too much bending of their eating rules. Grace broke the silence with a tinkling laugh and a shake of her head.

"Silly," she said, bopping Number Three affectionately on the nose. "You're _all_ my favorites! I love you each equally."

This time, the silence that followed that pronouncement was not horror, but shock. Not merely the fact that Number Three's abilities could not overcome Grace's programming. Even Number Three would not remember that until later. No, what made them stare at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed was the _second_  thing she said.

Four years, six months, and twenty-seven days of life and it was the first time any of the children had been told that they were loved. 

Number Two broke the silence.

"I love you too," he said, smiling so big and bright his face hurt. He ran forward, wrapping his arms around Grace's legs. "I love you too!"

"Me too!" Number Three surged forward, eager to join in, in the process of wrapping her arms around Grace, she also got Number Two caught up in the hug in the process. 

"Me too!" Number Four shouted, jumping up from the ground. He bumped his chin into the back of Number Two's head when he joined the hug, but Number Two didn't mind, he didn't even try to bite him.

"Me too!" Number Six mostly hugged Number Four, but he just seemed happy to be involved (especially if he didn't have to give up dessert for that to happen). 

"Me too," Number Seven said, the most quietly, but she latched on nearest Number Three who didn't shake her off; Number Three even moved her arm so Number Seven could press closer to Grace.

Number Five never said 'I love you,' but he did sneak in next to Number Seven, completing the circle - well, almost. 

"Number One," Grace called out, looking at the one child who hadn't jumped up immediately for an embrace. "Do you want a hug?"

Number One started to nod, but immediately thought better of it and shook his head. "I don't want to squish you."

That was a very real possibility. Number One's nannies occasionally took long leaves of absence for broken fingers, hands, arms, and legs when Number One got too affectionate or too careless. He'd had more new nannies than Number Seven. 

"Oh, don't worry about that." Grace crouched down and opened her arms. "Come here."

The other children got out of the way - none of them wanted to chance a squishing.

At first, when Grace gathered him in close, he didn't even try to hug her, but she hugged him near and said, "Don't worry, I'm one tough cookie," and Number One hesitantly put his arms around her waist. Then chanced a squeeze. She squeezed back and even gave him a kiss on the cheek. Though no red smear of lipstick was left behind, Number One's cheeks turned rosy red. 

"I love you too," he said shyly. When she let him go, he wrapped his arms around his waist, like he didn't want the hug to end, but didn't want to be greedy. 

Number Two got an idea. If they all loved Grace and Grace said she loved them, then...then...

"M-m-m-m..." he started, his tongue getting nervous and making mistakes. He tried again. "M-m-m-may we c-c-c-c-call you...call you..."

"UGH!" Number Five exclaimed. "Hurry up! You always take too long!"

"Shh," Grace hushed Number Five gently. She looked Number Two right in the eyes and said encouragingly, "You take as long as you need."

That made him feel better and he managed to squeak out, "May we c-c-call you M-Mom? Like Mrs. Arable in the b-book?"

Grace smiled at him. "Of course! I'd like that very much. It's what I was Made for."

"But she's not our mother," Number Five observed correctly. "She's our nanny - she's Number Seven's nanny. It's not like the book at all."

"I want to call her Mom," Number Six said firmly. That was different; usually he didn't say anything until at least three others had given voice to their opinion.

"Me too!" Number Three said, drawing close to Grace again and draping an arm around her neck.

"Number Seven should get to pick," Number Four piped up. "Grace _was_ her nanny first. Like Number Five said."

In an unusual show of harmony, all of the children looked at Number Seven. Dad would not have approved, but then Dad wasn't in the classroom; it was just them and Grace.

Number Seven looked at her brothers and sister, then finally back at Grace, kneeling patiently on the floor. Number Seven smiled a big smile, almost like Grace's smile and said, "Mom."

Grace - _Mom_ \- opened her arms again. And this time all the children rushed toward her at once.


End file.
